The End of the Tao
by THElaughingUNIVERSE
Summary: Rodney learned and unlearned many things during the "almost ascension process." Most of what he would like to remember has since slipped out of his grasp, and the one thing he would very much like to forget has managed to stick around. McShep.


A/N: To clarify: if you know anything about the chinese language you know that "tao" means, or almost means, "way", or "road" among other similar definitions. Which makes the translation of the episode this story takes place after "The Way of Rodney" or "The Road of Rodney", in very loose terms. Which makes the translation of this title "The End of the Way".

To clarify further I do not own the characters who follow, I make no money off of them, I write for fun not profit.

**The End of the Tao**

Rodney was having some trouble with his fly. It wasn't _necessarily_ because his hands were shaking, which they were. He had come off enough caffeine highs in the past that he could dress himself adequately even while his body shook like an earthquake. The reason he couldn't get is goddamn fly up lie in his inability to concentrate on the stupid thing for more than half a second at a time, and, as it turned out, there was a certain degree of mental focus required for getting one's pants on.

Yesterday Beckett had finally released him from the infirmary after a three-day stay. Rodney, even with his so called "rampant hypochondria" felt this was excessive. It was obvious that the reversal had worked find. His DNA was all back in its proper place, his super genius was gone (well the super genius that had been a result of the ascending process), his telekinesis was gone and his telepathy was gone. Thank God the telepathy was gone.

Or thank somebody anyway, because Rodney wasn't always sure he believed in God.

Surprisingly, having the ability to know the thoughts of every person on Atlantis at any given time and rubbing it in their inferior faces had quickly lost its appeal. The inner noise was distracting and boring. People were boring. And their thoughts were boring.

So Rodney had blocked out the ironically mindless babble. Then he'd blocked it ALL ENTIRELY when he'd learned he was dying. All cognitive processes beyond _Rodney's going to die_ were unimportant.

That's what he had thought. Or what he had _known_.

Until John Sheppard sent it all to hell.

Rodney was lying on the floor of John's room, with the Colonel sitting on the bed above him, trying to imagine a way for a Ferris wheel to be even remotely relaxing, when a big fuzzy thought tried to butt its way in. It was like having a big Labrador puppy scratching at his screen door. Hard to ignore, and why would he want to anyway?

Rodney let it in and heard the scratchy smooth tenor of Colonel John Sheppard echo like a bomb in his head.

_Rodney, don't die. _

_I love you._

How could something so incorporeal hurt like that? It was like a knife in the gut but worse. A knife in the gut bleeds, then heals, then goes away if it doesn't kill you. This was going to stick around.

Of course at the time he was dying anyway.

Rodney had sat up at that point and bubbled out some nonsense like "This isn't working," and run like hell without actually running. Dying, he had realized, was complicated. He'd always imagined it would be easier, terrifying, but easier. Crash, plunk, maybe some momentary pain.

And then bupkis.

Instead he had been faced with a moral dilemma.

And his accursedly ever-evolving brain had known well enough to keep the secret a secret. He couldn't break down and tell John everything, then die and expect the man to go on living without emotional damage. Whatever broken part of John's brain had decided that _Rodney_ was worth loving was apparently a big enough part that Rodney didn't want to break it further.

And still Rodney had almost failed his vigil at least once. As he lay dying and Elizabeth had said: "We love you." and John had said: "The way a friend feels about another friend." And Rodney had wanted to say: "Liar."

Then he realized that John wanted to keep things the way the were. He was more comfortable with the lie. He didn't want to give up what they had. And he probably didn't _want_ to be in love with Rodney in the first place because, really, who would? And habits like "don't ask don't tell" were hard to break. Or so Rodney imagined.

Now, here he was, not dead, with some information he had never counted on living with. He knew he was in love with John Sheppard. And he knew that John Sheppard was in love with him. And there was nothing he could to about it without risking John's career and their friendship.

And because Rodney knew what he knew the relationship had changed; the casual, good buddies system they had once had. The little touches, the excuses to hang out, meant something different now.

Worse still, John had noticed that Rodney had noticed something.

It didn't help that Rodney was a terrible liar.

Rodney finally succeeded in wrestling his fly up. He looked at his bed, considered the hazards of making it, and decided it would only get messed up again tomorrow night so why bother? It was time to get back to work, finally, and a healthy shouting match with Zelenka would probably make him feel much better.

Rodney turned, remembered he needed shoes, turned back, and heard the door open behind him.

John Sheppard, the crisis himself, stalked in. He waited until the door shut behind him, while Rodney stood frozen, before he crossing his arms and began to speak.

"Rodney. As your military commander I demand to know what's wrong." John was frowning in that serious I-take-no-crap way he had. Which, Rodney had learned slowly over the years, meant he was worried. The less John said about a problem the more it concerned him.

"Ah," said Rodney.

"Is it something to do with the ascension machine? Rodney I _told_ you that recovering from that was your first priority. I know you're afraid Zelenka is secretly tearing your lab to pieces but you can deal with that later, understand?"

Maybe he could play dumb.

"I'm not sure what you're talking about..." Yeah right.

"You've been acting like a basket case for days Rodney! You haven't made fun of Beckett once. You flinch every time someone walks into the room." Actually it was only every time _John_ walked into the room. "And you practically went comatose yesterday when I gave you a friendly pat on the back."

"Was it friendly?" Rodney asked before he could censor himself. Damn it. John's face went blank, the room felt a little colder.

"Of course it was. It certainly wasn't hostile."

"That's not what I meant." Oh well, it was coming out anyway. Even as he spoke Rodney could feel that he was stepping into hot water. "I mean are you sure you didn't do it because...that is to say I know what you...or rather...You know you should really watch what you yell in your head when there's a telepath in the room!"

"What? What is that supposed to-" and then John understood. He worked his mouth like a fish for a moment and managed: "Damn. Rodney I, damn. I'm sorry." He stepped back a pace. "I didn't mean for you to find out." A deep, shuddering breath. "This is awkward." He was looking pale. "I'll just leave."

"No!" and Rodney tried to stumble his way through an explanation before everything was ruined forever. "I mean, it's okay, I'm not under any of your stupid American military codes and it's actually flattering, even if I don't understand it. Because, you know, to think that _anyone_ would, well you know, because who would? And I didn't want to say anything when I found about because I was dying and then I thought about your military career and asking you to take a risk like that-"

"Rodney."

"Of course I _wanted_ to tell you, but that would have been stupid and, and, and selfish, and yes I'm capable of not being selfish all the time, thank you very much. And-"

"Rodney."

"So I didn't tell you. But then I didn't die and I'm a terrible liar, and I didn't want to mess everything up, course I did anyway, so I still didn't tell you. I figured it would make everything needlessly complicated, and if anyone found out we're back at the military problem-"

"RODNEY!"

Rodney stopped himself. "Yes?"

"You still haven't told me."

"Oh. I love you back...or too...or whatever! Anyway I didn't tell you because I figured you wouldn't want to know!" And now John was staring at him with a new expression that Rodney had never seen before. Which was terrifying. And he was walking slowly across the room closing the distance between them. Also terrifying.

And then some things happened that Rodney could never disclose to anyone, though they made him wonder why he had worked to hard to get his pants on. Rodney realized that he was going to have to learn to lie, but that it was for a worthy cause, and that many things only seemed complicated when you thought about them and sometimes it wasn't about the thinking.

John spoke.

"So did you ever remember why light behaves as both particles and waves?"

"Mmm. I was thinking maybe it just enjoys being both."

John chuckled, his chest moving under Rodney's head.

"Maybe it does."


End file.
